Fallen
by SFGrl
Summary: In a struggle to save what they cherish most, Monica and Chandler lose each other. Complete
1. The Vanishing

_AN: New angst series!  Who's excited? lol.  The updates will probably not be quick, but they'll be as quick as I can manage.  Review and let me know what you think. Thanks!_

_Fallen_

The bitter winter wind bit his face, as he wrestled his way through the large holiday crowd.  He'd always hated shopping—especially at this time of year.  In fact, he really wanted to curse out loud, at the shoppers, at the weather…and at Monica for having to work later than normal, because 'it's the holidays'.

 "Daddy, I have to go to the potty," Erica pulled on Chandler's right arm, and yanked him from his thoughts.  He looked down at his daughter, who was clearly not having a good time, and smiled softly.

This was why he couldn't curse.  He was fighting through the crowds with his children—and for children, this was supposed to be a happy time of year!  They didn't care about the crowds or the cold or the grouchy shoppers—all they knew was that this was the best time of year.

"Okay, let's go find you a bathroom, and then maybe the three of us can get some hot chocolate—what do you say?" Chandler grinned.

"Yay!" Erica and Jack cried simultaneously, as Chandler took a tiny hand in each of his, and led them toward the nearest department store.

Unfortunately, the nearest department store was Bloomingdale's, and was crawling with wall-to-wall shoppers.

Chandler sighed, and let go of Erica's hand just long enough to open the door and usher his six-year-old twins inside, before grasping their hands once more, and working his way through the crowd.

Because it was frigid outside, the heat was on high inside, and Chandler found himself sweating moments after entering the store.  He made his way to the first counter he saw, and waved down a grumpy-looking sales clerk.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry but…where is the bathroom?"

The woman, pale and drawn, was wearing a thick layer of makeup, making her appear much older than she most likely was.  Wordlessly, she lifted a thin, red-clawed finger, and pointed it toward the back of the store.  Chandler nodded gratefully, as the woman floated silently toward the next customer.

As they made their way to the back of the store, Chandler picked up a familiar holiday tune, and instinctively cringed.  _Jingle Bell Rock_ was one of his mother's favorite songs, and she had insisted on exposing his children to it last Christmas.  And, since Nora can't sing to save her life, she ended up making Erica cry while Jack simply stared at her in wonder for the rest of the night.

Making his way past a bank of brass elevators, Chandler finally managed to find a small hallway, with a door on either side.  One door was marked _Men's_, the other, _Women's_, and only one had a line snaking out of the bathroom and out toward the elevators.

He looked down at Erica, who was now dancing back and forth from one foot to the other, and then down at Jack, who was wearing the same shell-shocked look he'd worn when his Grandmother had attempted to sing to him.

"Well, there are two of us, and one of you, Jellybean," Chandler smiled, and pointed to the Men's room,  "I say we take the road less traveled."

Erica looked up at her father with a mixture of panic (she really had to pee!) and confusion (what _road_ was he talking about?).  He simply chuckled, and pulled the twins toward the Men's room.

Ten minutes later, Chandler found himself back out in the throng, trying to survive the Bloomingdale's crowd long enough to get out and to the sidewalk.  It seemed like the crowd had thickened, he noted, and the thought made him even more determined to get the hell out of there.  He knew Monica would be annoyed that he hadn't picked up Rachel's gift—but he just couldn't take it anymore—he had to get out of there.

"Daddy, I dwopped my glove," Jack yelled, and the threesome came to a sudden stop right next to the jewelry counter where the scary, thin woman had given them silent directions.

"Jack!" Chandler scolded, as he scoured the floor for the glove.  Never mind the gift, Monica would never forgive him if she knew one of their children was walking around New York in December wearing only one glove.

"Where did you drop it?" Chandler asked, as he and the children backtracked slightly.

"Over thewe, somewhewe," Jack waved his gloveless hand in the general direction of the center of the store.

"Ugh," Chandler groaned, and began walking back the way they'd come.

For fifteen minutes, they scoured the floor, looking under racks, and people's feet.  And finally, Chandler was able to make out what appeared to be Jack's glove (thank goodness it was red!) kicked into the corner near the elevators.

Relieved, Chandler grabbed the glove, and turned to find Jack, smiling proudly, with his little gloveless hand extended.  Chandler pulled the glove onto Jack's hand, and sighed in relief.

"Okay, let's go," Chandler said, "keep hold of your glove this time!"

"I will," Jack reassured his father with a sharp nod.

"Where's your sister?" Chandler looked around, noting that Erica was not standing where he'd left her.

"She was there," Jack said shakily.

A rush of panic swept through Chandler, and instinctively, he wrapped his arms around his son, and picked him up, holding him close as he ran up and down the bank of elevators.

"Erica!  Erica!" Chandler cried, his voice raspy and desperate.

An elevator opened, and several people walked out, all ignoring the father's frantic calls.

"Excuse me, have you seen a little girl?  She's six and has blonde hair and a purple jacket…"

A kindly elderly woman finally turned, and looked up at Chandler.

"No, I'm sorry…I haven't seen any little girl."

Feeling nauseous and unsteady, Chandler rushed through the store, his son in his arms, dark dread filling him with each passing moment.

Erica was nowhere to be found.

To be continued…


	2. As I Fall

_AN: Thank you all for the reviews on the initial chapter!  I forgot to mention that I am writing this specifically for dupton, who was poking at me to write more angst, and of course for Chris, who rocks!_

_And for Merge!  The best Mondler club around!_

_Fallen_

_Two_

Her cell phone had been ringing incessantly for the past half an hour, but the restaurant, and thus the kitchen, had refused to die down long enough for her to check it.  She knew that it was most likely Chandler, who was supposed to be picking up Rachel's gift, and he was probably either lost or bored or both.  Shaking her head, she concentrated on cooking the Sea Bass that was splattering in her pan, and decided that Chandler would just have to wait.

"Monica?  Your husband's on the line," Laura, her new sous chef called, from across the room.

Monica sighed. "Can you tell him I'll call him back?"

"He says it's an emergency."

Monica felt her heart jump.  Emergency.  Immediately, she thought of the children, and raced across the kitchen, her mind racing.

_It's fine_, she told herself as she took the phone from Laura's extended hand, _everything is fine._

"Chandler?" she said, as soon as the phone receiver touched her ear.

There was silence, and for a moment, Monica thought that they had been disconnected.  Then she heard her husband take a breath of air, and immediately, she knew.

"What happened?" she asked, keeping her voice as calm and steady as she could.

"It's Erica," Chandler finally rasped, and Monica could barely hear him over the clanging in the kitchen behind her, "we-we can't find Erica."

Monica felt her body begin to tremble, and she leaned against the wall for support.  The kitchen around her disappeared, and her head was spinning so fast, it was all she could do to keep from passing out.

"Where are you?" she finally managed, though she wasn't even certain she'd said the words out loud.  Her ears were ringing, and her head was swimming with worst-case scenarios.

"Bloomingdale's.  Mon, I'm so sorry, I just turned around and she was…I didn't—" Chandler stuttered.  Monica, unaware that he was even talking, dropped the phone and turned to Laura.

"I have to go," she said shakily, and rushed out of the kitchen before Laura could respond.

The taxi ride across town was excruciating, and all Monica could do was stare out frosted window listlessly, her mind and heart racing.

The taxi made its way downtown, and Monica's eyes fell on every tiny blonde head they passed, and every family that rushed through the streets, laughing merrily.

Her heart was heavy with concern.  Somewhere, out there, her daughter could be wandering in the cold, lost and crying, with no one there to keep her warm.

Without her mother.

Monica closed her eyes, and rested her forehead on the window lightly.

It could be something worse.  It could be something much, much worse.

She sat up and shook her head.  No.  She refused to believe that.  Erica was always a bit mischievous, and chances are she was simply hiding under a rack of clothing, waiting for her frantic father to find her.

She sighed.  Something in Chandler's voice told her that this wasn't the case.

Guilt coursed through her.  She shouldn't have made Chandler take the children with him into the crowded city.  She should have taken her mother up on her offer to watch the children.  She'd refused, because she'd had planned on meeting up with Chandler after work, and taking the kids to Rockefeller Center and teaching them how to skate.  But the restaurant would not die down, and besides, Chandler had taken care of both children alone before.

Her guilt melted away slightly, as she reasoned that this was no one's fault.  Children wander off all the time.  Everything would be fine.

The taxi pulled to a rough stop just in front of Bloomingdale's, and Monica paid the driver, before stepping out of the cab.  She wrapped her arms around her, as a chill ran through her, and it was only then that she realized that she had forgotten her coat.

She walked up to the large brass and glass doors, and peered through them.

Inside, several police officers were wandering through the store, along with what appeared to be store management.

Far in the corner, she spotted Chandler, seated on a small step leading up to the elevators, Jack wrapped securely in his arms.

Erica was nowhere to be seen, and Monica felt panic rise through her again.

She opened the door, and was met with a rush of warm air.  A young police officer stopped her as she tried to walk in.

"I'm sorry, Miss.  The store is closed."

"I—I'm Mrs. Bing—E-erica's mother," Monica whispered.

The officer's eyes softened, and he nodded and waved her inside.

She walked across the store, fully aware that the manager and police officers were watching her.  She walked toward Chandler, stopping several feet away from him.

He looked up at her, but couldn't meet her eyes.  He looked pale and weary, and Jack was sleeping soundly in his trembling arms.

"Mon, I—"

"What did the police say?" Monica asked, her words much harsher than she had intended.

"They—they're searching the area," Chandler replied, and looked at the ground.

"She's probably in here somewhere—" Monica looked around the store desperately.

"She's not—they looked.  We all looked.  She isn't here, Mon."

"Did you look inside those round racks?  You know how she likes to hide—" Monica's voice raised, as her desperation increased.

"She isn't here!" Chandler raised his voice slightly, and Jack fussed and then drifted off again, "It's been two hours."

"Two hours?  Why didn't you—why didn't you call me earlier?" Monica asked.

"I tried!  You didn't pick up—and—and no one at the restaurant picked up—not for a while—"

"I can't believe this," Monica said breathlessly, as she placed her hand over her forehead.

"Mon, I'm so sorry.  I…I turned and she was just…she was just gone!"

Monica found herself wanting to turn and scream at her husband that he should have _never_ turned away from her—that he should _never_ have let go of her hand.  But she could hear the overwhelming sadness in his voice, and she knew that that was not what he needed now.  That's not what either of them needed.

She swallowed down her rage and told herself that this was not Chandler's fault.

They would find her.

Turning slowly, she saw Chandler rocking Jack in his arms, as quiet sobs shook his tired shoulders.  Sighing heavily, she sat down next to her husband, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and laid her head on his left shoulder.

"We'll find her.  I'm sure she just got lost.  It's gonna be okay," she whispered.

"I'm so sorry," Chandler whispered again.

"Its—" she wanted to say it wasn't his fault, and that she forgave him.  She looked down at Jack, sleeping soundly, and felt her throat, and heart clench.

"It's gonna be okay," she repeated.

Not wanting to disturb the family, the officer and store security guard approached slowly and quietly.  When a hush fell over the couple, the police officer cleared his throat.

"Um, I'm sorry to disturb you, but…we have something that you should maybe see."

Chandler and Monica looked up at the officer, their eyes filled with hope.

The short, stocky security guard stepped up next to the officer, wearing a grim look on his face.

"We have reason to believe that your daughter did not just wander off," the guard said, with little regard for Monica and Chandler's feelings.

"Bob," the officer hissed, and shoved him back, "Sir, M'am, if you could come with us…we have something to show you."

Chandler and Monica stood, and looked briefly at each other, before following the officer and security guard toward the elevators.  They were then led through an unmarked door, and down a long, dimly lit corridor that let to yet another unmarked door.  The security guard pulled out a ring of several keys, and used one to open the large metal door.

Inside, several security monitors panned the store, looking out for shoplifters.  They were all connected to a large panel housing several buttons and two red telephones.  The security guard switched on a separate television, and cued up a video.

"We found a video that may help us," the officer said calmly, as 'Bob' hit 'play'.

A black and white, grainy image filled the screen, and immediately, Chandler saw himself, in the upper right hand corner of the screen, searching for Jack's wayward glove.  His heart leapt as he saw Erica, standing just behind him, waiting patiently.  Moments later, he watched himself discover the glove, just as two elevator doors slid open behind him.  A crowd of shoppers exited the elevator, one or two walking between Chandler and Erica.  The crowd dispersed just as Chandler slipped on Jack's glove, and just like that, Erica was gone.

Nausea hit Chandler, as the officer rewound the tape to show him and Monica the two people he believed to be suspects. He looked over at Monica cautiously, and noted that she was looking at her hands, trembling as tears slid freely down her face.  He wrapped his free arm around her, and pulled her toward him.

"Someone took her, Chandler," Monica sobbed, "someone took our little girl."

Chandler closed his eyes, and swallowed hard, unsure how to reply to Monica.

He looked over at the television monitor, in time to see his own image, turning away from his daughter to find the glove.

His heart sunk, and he closed his eyes, and let his own tears fall silently.

_AN: Yeah, I know these chapters are short, but they have to be…right now, anyway._


	3. I'll Take You With Me

_Fallen_

_Three: I'll Take You With Me_

The car ride home was painfully quiet—the only sound beyond the humming of the car engine was that of Jack's soft snoring—a subtle reminder that Monica and Chandler were going home with only one of their children.

Chandler knew this route by heart—after all, he'd made the trek in and out of the city nearly every day for over six years.  Instinctively, he changed lanes half a mile from their exit, his eyes focused vaguely on the road before him.

The police had told them that there was nothing more that they could do tonight.  They had told the worn couple to go home, and that they would call when they had news.  Monica had reluctantly agreed to go home, after Chandler softly reminded her that they should put Jack to bed.

Chandler stole a short glance at his wife, his heart aching at the sight before him.  Monica was curled in the seat, her arms wrapped tightly around her tiny legs, her forehead resting on the passenger side window.  She was staring straight ahead, but her vacant expression told Chandler that she wasn't really looking at anything.  He sighed softly, and forced himself to concentrate on the road ahead, lest he become the cause of yet another disaster tonight.

Several minutes later, he pulled their 4-Runner into the driveway, and turned off the engine.  When Monica made no move to get out of the car, he opened the front door, got out, and opened the back door to gather Jack.

Jack sighed restlessly when Chandler picked him up, but immediately settled into his father's arms.  Chandler carried the sleeping boy carefully into the house, flipping on lights only when necessary, and pausing for a short moment, before reluctantly settling Jack into his bed.

A chill ran through him, as he watched his son sleeping soundly before him.  Fighting back tears, Chandler kissed Jack on the forehead, pulled off his shoes, and pulled the blankets over his son's slumbering form.  He rose, and closed Jack's door only slightly, before making his way down the hall.

On his way to the staircase, he passed Erica's bedroom.  A sharp pain coursed through him, and he paused in front of her door.  Slowly, he reached out, and turned the doorknob, before pushing the door ajar.

Her room was exactly how they had left it this morning—an outfit she'd discarded had been carelessly tossed onto the foot of the bed—her favorite teddy bear—a gift from her Uncle Joey—was sitting prominently on her pillow, it's amber eyes shining merrily.

Chandler walked hesitantly into the room, and picked up the bear slowly.  He straightened the bear's tiny t-shirt—a bright pink shirt with the word _Hollywood!_ emblazoned across it in bright yellow letters.  Monica thought the shirt was horribly tacky, but Erica adored it, and for months after Joey had given it to her, she'd taken it everywhere with her. 

Smiling sadly, Chandler knelt beside his daughter's bed, and hugged the bear to his chest…

_"Daddy, you forgot to kiss Bear," Erica smiled, and held out the lifeless toy._

_"Oh, I'm sorry Bear!" Chandler laughed, and kissed the stuffed animal quickly, "Good night!"_

_"Wait!" Erica cried, in a desperate attempt to extend her bedtime._

_Chandler sighed and turned toward Erica, "Honey, it's time to go to sleep."_

_"Can you just sing one song?  Pleeeease!"_

_Shaking his head in defeat, Chandler kneeled next to Erica's bed, and ruffled her hair playfully._

_"One song, then you are going to sleep!"_

_"Okay!"_

_"Okay…let's see.  What do little girls that refuse to go to sleep usually listen to?"_

_"Daddy!"_

_Chandler laughed, and pulled Erica into his arms._

_"Would you like to swing on a star," he sang softly, "Carry moonbeams home in a jar…and be better off than you are…you could be swinging on a star…"_

.

Monica watched as Chandler carried Jack into the house.  Her mind was racing.  How could this have happened to them?  After all that they had been through just to get their children, how could someone just take that away?  Tears filled her eyes, and as they slid down her cheeks, she dropped her head into her hands.

It was the worst thing that could have happened to them.  Her shoulders trembled, as her silent tears became sobs.  Her body began to tremble violently, and she suddenly felt like she was suffocating.  She looked up at the house that stood in front of her—now staring back at her ominously, as if judging her, telling her that everything about this was wrong.

She let out a pain filled sob, before hiccupping through several breaths.

Her mind continued to race through any and every worst-case scenario, and she began to feel uncontrollable panic set in.

As her sobs became more pronounced, she let out a pained, primal scream, and buried her face in her hands.

The car door swung open, but she hardly noticed.  Her mind was heavy and hazy, and she was hardly aware that her seatbelt had been unfastened, and that she had been lifted from her seat.

She shivered, as the night air hit her, and she buried her face in the crook of a neck she knew well.

She had buried her face in his neck many times—and he had always been there to help her through the worst moments of her life.

But tonight, she knew that he could not make things better—he could not take away the pain she was feeling.

This time, he was the cause.

Or was he?  She was so confused…so lost.  She clung to him as he moved to set her on the sofa, needing him to be there, with her, his presence reassuring, somehow.

Yet it was still there…that nagging need to blame him for something…would this had happened if she'd been there?  Perhaps it was her fault?  What had gone wrong tonight?

Too exhausted to think about it any more, she buried her face in Chandler's chest, and struggled to find comfort in his embrace.

.

"She's asleep now.  I don't know, she hasn't said much."

Monica opened her eyes, and strained to listen to her husband's hushed voice in the next room.  Who was he talking to this time of night?  She sat up, and noted that the sun was beginning to ascend in the horizon.

"Okay, see you soon.  Bye." She heard Chandler hang up the phone, and she looked up at him as he entered the living room.

"Hey," he whispered, slightly surprised that she was awake.

"Who was on the phone?" Monica asked sharply.

"Ross," Chandler replied, then circled the sofa to sit next to her.  She stood up as he sat down, and crossed the room.

"You told him?  Don't you think you should have at least talked to me about it first?"

"He already knew.  The police called him, and freaked him out!  They're gonna call everyone, eventually.  We need to tell people what's going on," Chandler explained gently.

"I…I don't want people to know!  Do you have any idea what my mother will do when she finds out?"

Chandler furrowed his brow, "Monica, she'll be concerned, just like Ross and Rachel are.  They're on their way over, they want to help."

"She's gonna think I'm a bad mother," Monica continued, "That I can't handle taking care of two kids!  That's what they'll think!"

"Monica, you need to calm down!  No one is gonna think that!  It was an accident—and it wasn't your fault!"

Monica stared at Chandler silently for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"No…I should have been there," she muttered quietly.

"What do you mean by that, exactly?" Chandler asked cautiously.

The phone rang, and both Chandler and Monica jumped.  Monica rushed to the phone, and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said loudly, anxiously, "Oh, hi Phoebe.  No, I—I thought you were someone else.  No, we don't know anything…no, it's okay, we'll call you when we hear something.  I will.  Thanks, Phoebs.  Okay.  Bye."

"Monica—" Chandler started.

"I'm gonna go check on Jack," Monica said quietly, as she swallowed down the lump that was forming in her throat again.  She brushed past Chandler wordlessly, and ascended the stairs as quickly as she could.

Chandler collapsed onto the sofa in defeat.

.

"Do they have any idea who took her?" Ross queried, an hour later.  He and Chandler were seated in the living room, sipping coffee.

"They have a video…and they are gonna try to go from that, I guess," Chandler shrugged.

"How's Monica holding up?" Ross asked quietly.  His sister had been unusually quiet since he and Rachel had arrived.

"Not well.  She slept for an hour or two, but was crying most of the night.  But she'll barely look at me much less talk to me," Chandler sighed.

"Well, my parents said they'd watch Emma and Sam as long as we need them too.  I'm sure if you need them to watch Jack they will."

"No, I think we'd rather have him here with us," Chandler replied quietly.

"What about you?  How are you doing?"

"I'm okay.  I just…I can't believe this is happening, ya know?  I can't believe I turned away—"

"Chandler, this isn't your fault.  It could have happened to any of us.  You can't let this eat at you, man.  You'll go mad."

Chandler nodded, and looked at his hands.

"The thing is, I keep seeing the image from that videotape in my head.  I can't get it out, it's like it's on a continuous loop.  And all I keep thinking is—I should have never turned away.  She would be here right now if I hadn't turned away."

"Chandler—"

"And I know that's what Monica is thinking.  I know she blames me, Ross.  I can see it in her eyes."

"She loves you.  And you two are going to get through this."

"I don't want to get through it!" Chandler snapped, "I want to find my daughter."

"I know, okay?  I know," Ross held up his hands defensively, "That's not what I meant."

"I'm sorry," Chandler shook his head, "I know what you meant.  I'm just…I just don't—"

"It's okay," Ross pulled his friend and brother into a hug, "We're gonna help you, I promise, we'll find her."

.

"What did my mom say when you told them?" Monica asked quietly, as she set a cup of coffee in front of Rachel and took a seat at the kitchen table.

"We didn't tell them anything.  Ross told them that you were going to call them today."

"I don't want to tell her," Monica shook her head.

"Mon, they're going to need to know.  They're going to want to help."

"I know…I guess I just…talking about it is just…I can't," Monica sighed.

"Ross and I can talk to them, if you want.  We're gonna call to check on the kids later anyway."

"No…I should tell them…I guess I just…I guess I was hoping that they would have found her by now."

"They'll find her," Rachel placed a supportive hand on Monica's arm, "you said they have a video, right?"

"Yeah," Monica said darkly, images from the video haunting her.

"They must have something then," Rachel nodded.

"I hope so," Monica whispered.

"How's Jack?" Rachel asked tentatively.

"He's okay.  We told him that she was okay, and that she would be back soon.  But I think he knows that something's wrong."

Rachel noted Monica's refusal to say her daughter's name.  She had noticed it earlier, when she and Ross had first come over.  Since their arrival, Rachel had yet to hear Monica or Chandler utter Erica's name out loud.

"Maybe you should talk to him about it," Rachel suggested, "Ask him what he remembers."

"No," Monica shook her head, "I don't want him to feel like he did something wrong."

"No one did anything wrong, Monica.  It wasn't anyone's fault, except the person that took Erica."

Monica nodded, but Rachel could see that she disagreed with her. 

"Maybe we should go into the living room," Rachel suggested.

"You go," Monica smiled tightly, "I'm gonna go check on Jack."

Rachel nodded, and watched as Monica walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to Jack's bedroom.  She walked into the living room and sat down next to her husband.

"How is she?" Ross asked quietly.

"Okay.  But I think she's blaming herself a lot," Rachel sighed.

Chandler winced, and looked up at the staircase longingly.

Though she was under the same roof, Chandler was beginning to miss his wife terribly.

The fear of losing all that he had was overwhelming, and unsure how to handle it, he stood up, quietly excused himself, and walked out the front door.

("Swinging on a Star" words & music by Johnny Burke and Jimmy Van Heusen)


	4. In the Still of the Night

_Fallen_

_Four: In The Still of The Night_

He walked out the front door quickly—but didn't go far.  Instead, he reached behind a large hedge that sat up against the house, fumbled around through some stones, and found what he was looking for.

He pulled the pack of cigarettes out of the Ziploc bag, and stuffed the plastic into his pants pocket.  Sighing heavily, he sat down on the porch step, and pulled a cigarette and his lighter out of the wrinkled red package.

He was pretty sure that Monica was well aware that the cigarettes were there—it seemed they had formed an unspoken agreement about his habit—he would smoke in secret, and she would pretend she didn't know about it.

He hadn't smoked in a while, though, so when he lit the stick and inhaled deeply, he felt a warmth rush through him that he'd nearly forgotten.

It was a warmth that he cherished.

The front door opened, but Chandler made no move to extinguish his cigarette.  Somehow he knew that the person standing behind him was not Monica.

And he was right.

Rachel sat down next to him slowly, never taking her eyes off of him as he inhaled again.

"I thought you quit…again?" Rachel sighed with a slight sad smile.

 "I don't think we ever quit…not really," Chandler said after he blew out a plume a smoke.

"She doesn't really blame you…she just…needs to put her emotions somewhere…I think," Rachel said softly.

"I know," Chandler whispered, and tapped the end of his cigarette slowly, "I just wish…she would let me in."

"She needs time.  She doesn't know what to do, ya know?"

"And I do?" Chandler laughed bitterly.

"That's not what I meant.  Look, Chandler, it could have happened to any of us—any one of us," Rachel echoed darkly.

"But it didn't, Rach, it happened to _me_—to _my_ daughter.  It's not like anyone had a lot of confidence in my parenting skills beforehand, ya know?"

"Chandler, this has nothing to do with that—and you are a wonderful father—"

"Right," Chandler shook his head, "tell that to my wife."

"Chandler, come on.  This isn't going to help Erica.  You and Monica need each other, because you are the only person in the world right now who understands her pain, and she yours.  Despite what she may say, Chandler, she needs you.  And you need her, and you both need to focus on finding Erica now.  What's done is done." Rachel took a breath, and placed a supportive hand on Chandler's forearm, "This is not your fault."

Chandler looked at Rachel, tears lining his eyes.

"I know this may sound selfish Rach—but I really need to hear that from Monica.  I need her to tell me that she doesn't blame me—she hasn't done that." He whispered.

"She will…I'm sure she will," Rachel smiled.

.

"Hey, big guy!" Ross smiled widely, as Monica carried her bleary-eyed son down the stairs and into the living room.  Jack didn't reply—he simply rubbed his eyes and plopped his head onto Monica's shoulder.

"He's still sleepy," Monica said, exhaustion lining her own voice.

"Maybe you should try to get some rest, Mon," Ross suggested, "I can keep an eye on Jack."

"I'm okay," Monica replied shortly, as she settled onto the sofa and settled Jack into her arms.

"Mon—you guys should—should maybe talk," Ross said tentatively.

"What?" Monica arched her eyebrow, confused.

"You and Chandler."

"Oh," Monica nodded slowly, then scanned the room, "where'd he go?"

"Outside, I think—he kind of stormed out.  Rachel went after him."  
Monica swallowed hard, and closed her eyes.

"You two need each other, ya know?" Ross said quietly.

Monica opened her eyes, and looked up at Ross.  Tears formed under her eyes, but as she moved to speak, the front door opened, and Chandler and Rachel walked in, followed by several uniformed officers.

"What's going on?" Ross asked, as Rachel approached.

"Mon, why don't we take Jack into the kitchen," Rachel suggested, and Monica nodded.  Ross picked Jack up off of Monica's lap, and Rachel smiled at him.

"Hey Jack, are you hungry?  Let's go get a snack."

Jack's eyes landed on the police officers that had gathered in his home, and his eyes widened with a mixture of curiosity and terror.  He clung to Ross' shirt collar as Ross and Rachel walked into the kitchen, his eyes never leaving the officers.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bing, my name is Officer Lewis.  I'm sorry to come unannounced, but—"

"No, it's fine," Chandler said hastily, and Monica circled to sofa to stand next to her husband.

"We'd like to set up some equipment here, to monitor any calls that may come into the house," Officer Lewis explained.

"Wh-why?" Monica asked quietly.

"There is a possibility that the kidnappers may want to contact you—to demand ransom.  We'd like to be able to trace the call."

"S-so, you haven't found anything?" Monica asked, her heart clenching at the very thought of hearing the voice of the person who took her daughter.

"No, I'm sorry, we don't have much," Officer Lewis smiled sympathetically, "but we're doing everything we can."

"Oh," Monica's shoulders dropped, and her mind drifted, as the officer began explaining the process to her and Chandler.

She looked up at her husband, who was nodding attentively, though his eyes revealed his true feelings.  She could see that he was just as disappointed as she was, that the officer had no news to report.  In that moment she felt a wave of love and affection rush through her, and her brother's earlier advice echoed in her mind.

They only had each other.

As the officer continued talking, Monica took Chandler's hand in his, and squeezed it gently.  He stole a short glance toward her, smiling reassuringly, then squeezed her hand in return. 

It was a small gesture, but one that he needed more than he could begin to explain.  It took all that he had not to sweep her into his arms, and hold her close, and whisper a thousand 'I love you's' and apologies.  It took all of his strength not to collapse into sobs each time Officer Lewis mentioned his daughter's name.  He stood strong, he stood firm—because he knew that he needed to be the one to get them through this.

Because in spite of everything that anyone had said—Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Officer Lewis—he still blamed himself—and deep down, he knew that Monica still did too.

He would fix this.  He had to.

.

Erica looked up at her captor with wide eyes, her lips pursed tightly, refusing to open.

"Come on little one," the woman cooed softly, "you have to eat sometime."

A spoon was lifted to her lips, and she turned her head stubbornly, her eyes closed tight, shutting away the world around her.

"You will eat, my dear.  Eventually, you'll have no other choice."

.

"Come on, I know you love this stuff!" Rachel smiled, stirring the pudding slowly, "Why won't you eat, sweetie?"

"I don't wanna," Jack pouted, shaking his head.

"Aren't you hungry?" Ross asked softly.

"I won't eat!" Jack said angrily.

"Okay, okay.  You don't have to—but your mom thought you might be hungry…" Ross replied in a sing-song tone, trying to persuade him.

"Erica won't eat," Jack said quietly.

Ross and Rachel looked at each other, both feeling shivers run down their spines.

"Wh-what did you say?" Rachel whispered.

"I said I don't want to eat," Jack said, and pushed the bowl of pudding away.

Ross looked at Rachel, who had gone pale.

"That's not what I heard," he whispered softly.

_In the still of the night_

_As I gaze out of my window_

_At the moon in its flight_

_My thoughts all stray, stray to you_

_In the still of the night_

_While the world lies in slumber_

_Oh the times without number_

_When I say to you_

_Do you love me_

_Like I love you_

_Are you my life to be_

_That dream come true_

_Or will this dream of mine_

_Will it fade way out of sight_

_Just like that moon growing dim_

_Way out on the rim of the hill_

_In the still of the night_

("In the Still of the Night", Cole Porter)


	5. A Deeper Shade of Blue

_Fallen_

_Five: A Deeper Shade of Blue_

The house had settled into such a deep silence, he could hear the rhythmic tick-tock of his wristwatch, tossed carelessly onto his nightstand hours earlier.

This kind of complete silence was rare, and it reminded Chandler of his first few restless nights in this house.

So accustomed was he to the constant buzz of the City, that he'd had trouble adjusting to the complete silence of suburbia.

At first, he'd found the saccharine environment and total silence disturbing, but over the years, he'd grown accustomed to the comfortable lifestyle, and now he found that a lone car traveling down their street in the middle of the night was enough to rouse him.

On this night, the silence disturbed him once more, but for entirely different reasons. Worse, he couldn't rely on Monica's deep breathing to calm him--she had gotten out of bed an hour ago, convinced that he had dozed off. He'd lain awake for several minutes, waiting for her to come back, but she never did. And when he'd finally got up to search for her, he'd found her, snuggled in bed with Jack, fast asleep.

So now he lay in bed alone, feeling cold, a bit nauseous, and wide-awake.

Ross and Rachel had gone home soon after the police left, both looking a bit shaken, but neither saying much, other than that they would be back in the morning. Phoebe had called as well, wanting an update, and Chandler had finally gathered the strength to phone Joey in Los Angeles a few hours later.

_"Hey, Chandler, long time no talk!"_

_"Yeah…I had to talk to two or three of your assistants to get through to you…you must be doing well," Chandler chuckled softly._

_"Well, the show is going into syndication, which means I never have to work again," Joey said excitedly, "and I just got a script today from Gus Van Sant—"_

_"Sounds like it's going well Joe—listen, the reason I'm calling—I kinda have news, and—"_

_"News? You don't sound very excited—must not be good," Joey joked._

_"It's not," Chandler sat back in his office chair heavily, and let out a deep breath, "Erica's missing."_

_"What? What do you mean, missing?"_

_"Someone took her," tears welled up in Chandler's eyes, and he rubbed them with the heel of his hand quickly, "the police are looking into it, but—"_

_"God, Chandler, this is—how's Monica taking it?"_

_"Not well. She's trying to stay strong for Jack—but it's killing her."_

_"How's Jack? Was he there when she…?"_

_"Yeah, he was there—he seems okay—I don't know," Chandler shook his head slowly._

_"How about you, man? How are you holding up?" Joey's voice was solid yet soft, and Chandler knew that he wouldn't be able to keep it together if Joey started crying too._

_"I'm…getting by. Listen, I'd better go. I just…I didn't want you to read about it in the paper or something…"_

_"What can I do, Chandler? You tell me, and I'm there, okay? Look, the show wraps on Friday, so I'm gonna fly out—"_

_"You don't have to—"_

_"I want to. I'll do anything I can."_

_"Thanks, Joe."_

_"Take care of yourself, and Mon and Jack. I swear I'll be there as soon as I can."_

_._

Chandler peered at the clock, and noted that it was close to four in the morning. He hadn't slept a wink, and was certain that he wouldn't. Sighing heavily, he pulled himself out of bed, and pulled on his robe, before padding down the hall. He peered into Jack's room, and saw that he and Monica were still sound asleep. Quietly, he walked downstairs and into the kitchen.

The kitchen was relatively dark, save for the moonlight that shone through the window over the sink and sliding glass door that lead to the backyard. Chandler opened the fridge, and a flood of artificial light filled the room. He rooted around in the fridge for a minute, not really knowing what he was looking for. After a moment, he pulled out an apple, and shut the door.

He sat down at the kitchen table, and twisted the stem of the apple listlessly, as he stared blankly at the empty chair across from him.

In his mind's eye, he could see his daughter, sitting in that chair, smiling back at him, or talking animatedly about her day. Sometimes she would get so excited, she'd toss her spoon halfway across the room, sending whatever-was-on-the-spoon flying in every direction. Monica would scold her, and he would laugh, and Monica would glare at him for laughing. In the end, she would laugh too.

The stem of the apple snapped off, bringing Chandler back to reality. He set down the apple, and wiped more tears from his eyes.

"Do you want me to cook you something?" Monica said softly, though her sudden presence made Chandler jump visibly.

"Jesus, Mon," he said breathlessly.

"Sorry," she shrugged and sat down in the chair he had been staring at moments earlier.

"I didn't mean to wake you, I—"

"You didn't," Monica interrupted.

"I couldn't sleep," Chandler finished, and picked up the apple once more.

Monica looked down at the apple, and sighed. She wondered what he must have thought, seeing her sleeping soundly in Jack's room.

It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep with him; it was that she couldn't.

She had an urgent need to be near Jack, as if somehow, that would bring her closer to Erica.

She knew it would sound silly out loud, so instead of explaining, she just sighed again.

"I could make you some breakfast. You must be hungry, you haven't eaten at all since—"

"I'm not really hungry," Chandler set down the apple, and put his head in his hands.

He looked so utterly helpless, in that moment in the moonlight. Monica felt her throat clench, and she moved to stand.

Chandler looked up suddenly, startling her.

"Don't leave, Mon. Please," he whispered pleadingly.

She circled the table, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I'm not leaving,"

He pulled her onto his lap, and buried his face in her shoulder. He began to tremble, and she let out a sob, and in that moment, they were one again.

.

Two Days Later

"Rachel's right, you should get out of the house for a while," Chandler said softly, as he watched Jack play with his oatmeal blankly, "Jack needs some fresh air too."

"What about you? You should come with us," Monica argued, as she set a steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of Chandler.

"Someone should stay here in case…" Chandler drifted off.

Monica looked at Chandler for a moment, then nodded slowly and sank into the chair next to him.

"Alright. But you'll call if you hear—"

"Of course I will," Chandler placed his hand on hers, and smiled reassuringly.

.

He watched as Monica packed up a bag of things—toys, snacks, and anything else she thought she and Jack may need while on a day trip into the city. Chandler marveled at her organizational skills sometimes—she always had exactly what she needed when she needed it. If one of the kids took a spill in the playground, she was ready with antiseptic wipes and Band-Aids. If they somehow ended up stuck on a subway in Manhattan, she was prepared with travel games and snacks to keep the kids calm. She was the picture of perfection, a stellar mother, and the most organized person he'd ever known.

He'd often relied on her organization, on her super-mom abilities, to get by. He himself was not quite as put together, and over the years he had become increasingly reliant on her to make him look good.

He was a better father, husband, _person_—because of her.

His slight smile faded, as he came to realize that magnitude of his mistake—he had failed her, in the worst kind of way. The question of whether he'd ever be able to forgive himself was dwarfed by the question of whether she would ever forgive him—whether they would ever be able to move past this.

In the end, he realized, none of that mattered. Erica was the only thing that mattered now—and he would focus all of his energy on ensuring her safe return—regardless of the effect it would have on his marriage.

On his own soul.

"Chandler?" Monica's voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he blinked and looked down at her confused face.

"Huh?"

"You okay? You looked…lost."

"Yeah…just thinking," Chandler smiled slightly.

"Oh," Monica nodded. Normally she would dig further, ask him what he was thinking about, but she couldn't bring herself to inquire any more—she didn't want in on his dark thoughts.

She had too many of her own to deal with.

"We're gonna go. We won't be long," Monica pulled her bag onto her shoulder, then crouched down to pick up Jack. Chandler leaned down to kiss his son goodbye.

"See you soon, son," he whispered softly.

"Are you going to see Erica?" Jack replied.

The question took Chandler off guard. He stepped back slightly, and just managed to shake his head.

"No, honey, daddy is gonna stay here. We are going to see Uncle Ross and Aunt Rachel and your cousins, okay?" Monica stepped in, after shooting Chandler a dark look.

"You guys have fun," Chandler managed a smile, and watched as Monica carried Jack out the front door. Jack looked back at him, a look of concern on his face.

Chandler waited for the door to close before collapsing to his knees.

The sound of someone pounding on the front door roused Chandler, and he jumped from the sofa to answer it. He looked at his watch, and realized that Monica and Jack had been gone for nearly two hours. He hardly remembered drifting off.

He opened the door, and was only mildly surprised to see Officer Lewis and another uniformed officer on the other side.

"Mr. Bing, I'm glad you're here," Officer Lewis said grimly.

"What's going on? Did you find her?"

"Is your wife here, Mr. Bing?"

"N-no," Chandler shook his head. His body began trembling visibly.

"Sir, perhaps we should discuss this inside," the other officer offered.

"What's going on?" Chandler demanded.

"Sir, please," Officer Lewis stepped forward, and the three men made their way into the house. Chandler led the officers to the living room, and sat on the edge of one of the reading chairs slowly. The officers both sat on the sofa, neither making eye contact.

"Did you find her?" Chandler asked again, his voice raspy.

Officer Lewis looked up, his expression unreadable. In the seconds in took the officer to reply, Chandler was certain he was going to explode.

"We got a call from our colleagues in New Jersey."

"N-new Jersey?" Chandler echoed.

"Mr. Bing, there really is no easy way to say this—we need you to come with us."

"W-why?" Chandler managed, though he dreaded the answer.

"They found a little girl—in a ravine off of the highway. They are working on identifying her, but it would be faster if you could—"

"She—the girl—she'd dead?"

"I'm afraid so. Sir, we'd like you to come with us—to identify the—to make an identification."

_What am I to you_

_Tell me darling true_

_To me you are the sea_

_Fast as you can be_

_And deep the shade of blue_

_When you're feeling low_

_To whom else do you go_

_See I cry if you hurt_

_I'd give you my last shirt_

_Because I love you so_

_If my sky should fall_

_Would you even call_

_Opened up my heart_

_I never want to part_

_I'm giving you the ball_

_When I look in your eyes_

_I can feel the butterflies_

_I love you when you're blue_

_Tell me darlin' true_

_What am I to you_

_Yeah well if my sky should fall_

_Would you even call_

_Opened up my heart_

_Never wanna part_

_I'm giving you the ball_

_When I look in your eyes_

_I can feel the butterflies_

_Could you find a love in me_

_Could you carve me in a tree_

_Don't fill my heart with lies_

_I will you love when you're blue_

_Tell me darlin' true_

_What am I to you_

_What am I to you_

_What am I to you_

_(What Am I to You – Norah Jones)_


	6. Lost Soul

**AN: This is just a quick chapter—basically to answer a little question I left hanging in the last chapter. Thank you all for your kind reviews, I truly appreciate it.**

_Fallen_

_Six: Lost Soul_

She—the girl—she'd dead?"

"I'm afraid so. Sir, we'd like you to come with us—to identify the—to make an identification."

He felt bile rise up in his throat, and his vision grew fuzzy. He could hear voices, but they seemed far away...the tips of his fingers felt cold, then numb.

He shook his head, shook off the shock, and looked up at the men seated before him.

"It…can't be her," he finally rasped, so low the officers almost missed it.

"Sir, if you could come with us—"

"It's not her!" Chandler screamed, and rose to his feet.

"Maybe it isn't" Officer Lewis replied, and stood, "but we need to make sure."

Chandler nodded shortly, but kept his eyes on the ground. The officers led him out of the house, and to a waiting vehicle.

His entire body had gone numb.

It wasn't her, he was sure of it—and yet he couldn't help the nausea—he couldn't stop the fear that was beginning to overwhelm him.

What if it was her? What would they do?

…… 

"Jack, stay close!" Monica called, as the boy ambled merrily toward the swing set. Monica kept a sharp eye on her son, while trying to hold a conversation with Rachel.

"He's fine, Mon," Rachel said calmly, "Emma and Sam are right there."

"I just—" Monica shook her head and looked down at her hands, "I need to be sure."

"I know," Rachel smiled and took Monica's hand in her own, "I know."

"God, I just want to find her—I need to find her. I feel like I'm losing my mind," Monica laughed harshly, and shook her head, "I don't even know how to explain it."

"I wish there was more we could do, honey," Rachel sighed.

"I know," Monica nodded.

"How are things…with you and Chandler?" Rachel asked tentatively.

Monica sighed deeply, and looked over at Jack, who was now being pushed on the swings by his older cousin. Emma giggled loudly, and pushed him again.

"Emma, not so high, honey!" Rachel yelled, her own fear of the playground device not fully resolved. She turned back to her friend, who was still watching the children blankly. "Mon? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Monica smiled sadly.

"But…?"

"But…nothing. We're fine!"

"Mon, you forget how well I know you."

"Rach, can we let it go? I just…I don't know, ya know? Maybe when Erica comes back, everything will get better."

"And maybe it won't. Look, Monica, you guys really need to talk about this."

"No, we need to focus on finding Erica," Monica stood and walked toward the playground, effectively ending the discussion.

…. 

"Right this way, Mr. Bing," Officer Lewis said gently, as he led Chandler down a flight of stairs, to a darkened corridor underneath the main station. At the end of the corridor was a door, and Officer Lewis knocked twice before swinging it open.

"Gus, this is Chandler Bing," Officer Lewis said as casually as he could, "He needs to…"

"Oh, right. Stacey called down about him. One second," Gus, a heavyweight, balding man in jeans, a white t-shirt and a white lab coat that was clearly too small for him, turned and pulled at a hospital green curtain that was dividing the room in half.

Chandler felt dizzy. His entire body trembled, and his mouth felt dry. He clenched and unclenched his fists rhythmically, trying to regain his composure.

For there, behind the curtain, sat a large, metal table. On top of the table was a white sheet, and underneath the sheet, was clearly the body of a child.

"Mr. Bing, when you're ready, Gus will pull the sheet," Officer Lewis whispered slowly.

White noise filled his ears, and he barely heard what the officer had said. He took a deep breath, and approached the body slowly. Despite his fear, his shock, and his grief, he could not stop staring at the still form before him.

He gave Gus a slight nod, though he wasn't sure he was ready for what lay underneath the sheet. Deep down, he half-hoped that Gus had missed the nod, but as Gus took the top two corners of the sheet between his thumb and forefinger, Chandler realized that there was no going back. He held his breath, as the sheet was pulled.

A startling cry, and Chandler fell to his knees, his body wracked with sobs. Gus looked uncomfortably at Officer Lewis, and the officer shooed him back as he crouched down to comfort the distraught father.

"Sir, I—"

"It's not her," Chandler sobbed, his body trembling with real intensity, "it's not Erica."

… 

"Chandler, we're back," Monica called to an empty house. Jack was sleeping soundly on her shoulder, and she looked around as she carried her son upstairs. "Chandler?"

Where could he be? Monica's mind whirled, as she mechanically changed Jack into his pajamas, and tucked him into bed. She walked back downstairs, and grabbed her purse off of the entryway table, before fumbling through her bag in search of her cell phone. She pulled it out, and noted that the phone had not registered any incoming calls.

The doorbell rang, and Monica moved to answer it, immediately wondering if it was Chandler.

"Hey, we got Chinese, hope that's okay," Rachel smiled, as she, Ross, and the kids walked into the house.

"Hey sis," Ross kissed his sister on the cheek quickly, "where's Chandler?"

"I…I honestly have no idea," Monica shrugged, and peered out onto the darkening horizon before closing the door, "He wasn't here when we got here."

"Maybe he went out to get food," Rachel suggested, "Did you call and tell him that we were gonna come by with dinner?"

"No, I figured it was still early enough…"Monica sighed, "Guess I was wrong."

"I'm sure he's fine, Mon," Ross said.

"Yeah well…he was supposed to stay here in case…in case someone called," Monica replied, a hint of annoyance lining her voice.

"Maybe they did," Rachel said.

"No, he promised he'd call me," Monica shook her head, "He promised…"

A car pulled into the driveway, and the three adults turned toward the living room window.

"It's a police car," Ross said darkly, as Monica moved to open the door.

She watched, as Officer Lewis approached, with Chandler not far behind him.

"Mrs. Bing, I'm glad you're home," the officer said, as Monica ushered them into the house.

"What is it? Is it Erica?"

"No…we had what we thought might be a lead, but…" The officer looked at Chandler, "We asked your husband for some help—"

"Chandler, I wish you would have called me," Monica said crossly, "I told you I wanted to know as soon as—"

"You didn't want to know this," Chandler rasped, and walked slowly to the sofa, where he collapsed.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Monica turned and looked up at Officer Lewis.

"We…we found the body of a little girl, in New Jersey," the officer said slowly, "We needed to identify her…so we came here. It…it wasn't your daughter."

"Oh my God," Monica felt her stomach turn, and her hand shot up to cover her mouth.

"Mrs. Bing," Officer Lewis continued in a lower, quieter tone, "Your husband had a very hard time with this—it may be a good idea to keep a close eye on him tonight."

"Thank you, I will," Monica stole a glance at Chandler, who was now sitting up and facing forward. Ross and Rachel were sat nearby, attempting to talk to him.

"Call me, if you need anything," Officer Lewis said, and made his way to the front door.

Monica stood rooted to her spot on the floor for a long minute, after Officer Lewis had left. The information he'd given her was dancing through her head, haunting her.

What if it had been Erica? What would they have done?

Monica turned and walked into the living room, then knelt before Chandler slowly. She turned to look at Ross and Rachel, who were seated across from Chandler, each holding a child on their lap, each looking remarkably uncomfortable.

"Can you guys give us a minute? Um, go ahead and start eating if you want to," Monica whispered.

Ross nodded, and he and Rachel and children made their way into the kitchen. Monica watched them leave, then looked back over at Chandler.

He looked pale and exhausted; as though his soul had been torn from him. Monica took his hands in hers.

"Chandler, I—"

"I'm sorry I didn't call, Mon," Chandler whispered, "I just…"

"Shh, it's okay. It's gonna be okay."

"Is it? That little girl could have easily been _our_ little girl. And the thing is—"

"But it wasn't. Sweetie, she's gonna be okay—"

"All I kept thinking was—that girl…she's somebody's daughter. Somewhere tonight, there's a father who had to tell his wife that their little girl is…I can't imagine…I don't want to—"

Monica pulled herself up to the sofa, and enveloped Chandler in her arms.

"She'll be okay. She has to be."


	7. Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word

_Fallen_

_Seven: Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word_

He followed the officer down the darkened corridor, his heart racing wildly. He squinted, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness that seemed to grow around him with each step. His hands were clammy and shaking, and as he stopped at the large metal door before him, he took in a deep, sharp breath. He turned the cool, steel doorknob slowly, and pulled the door open.

Light flooded the hallway, and he shielded his eyes with his free hand. Unable to let go of the door just yet, he hovered in the doorway, as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room's light.

Erica lay on a cold metal table, her eyes closed to the world, her lips pursed into a small, angelic smile. Her hands were folded neatly on her stomach, and her blonde hair fanned around her, in perfect, tiny ringlets.

He walked toward her, but as he did, it seemed that Erica moved farther away. He began to run, but it only pushed her farther. He tried to scream, but no sound emerged. Suddenly, the door he had opened slammed shut, and he found himself back in the darkened corridor.

He screamed again, and this time, his cry echoed around him.

….

"Chandler? Chandler, wake up."

Chandler's eyes shot open, and he sat up suddenly, and tried to catch his breath.

"You were…screaming."

He looked over at Monica, who was looking back at him with a mixture of concern, and an emotion he couldn't quite recognize.

"S-sorry, I…what time is it?"

"8:30. You fell asleep on the sofa last night…I didn't want to disturb you, so I just—" Monica explained hurriedly, as Chandler took in his surroundings.

"'S okay," Chandler yawned, "Is Jack still asleep?"

"Yes, but he should be getting up soon," Monica sighed, "What were you dreaming about?"

"It was…about Erica," Chandler said softly.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there with you yesterday," Monica replied, as she sat down next to him.

"I'm glad you weren't," Chandler shook his head, "It was horrible."

"Still—I'm sorry you had to go through that alone."

"We shouldn't be going through this at all—none of this," Chandler sighed.

"But we are. And there's nothing we can do about that now," Monica replied flatly.

"I don't know—" Chandler started, then shook his head.

"What?"

"I don't know how to make it better. How to make up for what happened."

After all that they had been through, Chandler had hoped that, on some level, Monica had been able to forgive him for what he had done, and that she would be able to tell him so. He gazed at her as she stared straight ahead, considering her reply. He held his breath, and waited, his eyes filled with as much hope as he could muster.

She said nothing in reply. She simply stood and crossed the room, her eyes never leaving the front window. And for Chandler, her silence was as condemning as any word she could have uttered.

"Someone's here," she said quietly, though Chandler hardly heard her at all.

….

To his utter dismay, the press and paparazzi had followed him from the airport to Chandler and Monica's. How they had heard about his arrival still escaped him, but he had his suspicions, and made a mental note to fire his new assistant when he got back to LA.

As the Town Car pulled up to the Bing home, Joey found himself filled with nostalgia for years past. Though he hadn't spent a lot of time in this house before moving to California, it still felt like home to him, and he knew that it had more to do with the people inside of it than anything else. Chandler and Monica were like family to him, and the idea that they were going through this hell haunted him.

He remembered the last time he was here, almost one year ago. Erica had followed him around the entire time he was here, and he remembered reveling in the fact that Erica had preferred him to any of her other aunts and uncles. Ross had jealously pointed out that it was because he was always on TV, and besides, she saw the rest of them almost every week; but regardless of the reason, he always felt like he and Erica had a special bond.

The driver opened his door, pulling him from his reverie. He hopped out of the car, and raced for the front door, hoping to get inside before anyone could stop him and ask him about Erica or her parents. He sighed in relief when Monica opened the door, and ushered him into the house hastily.

"Thanks, Mon. And—sorry about them," Joey motioned toward the front lawn, where several reporters had planted themselves already. Monica turned, and walked toward the window, silently scanning the situation, before abruptly shutting the drapes. She turned to look at Joey, a sad smile on her face.

"It's good to see you, Joey," she said softly, and walked back toward him. Joey pulled her into a hug.

"Where are Jack and Chandler?"

"Upstairs. Jack just woke up," Monica pulled away from Joey, "You want some coffee?"

"Sure. Um, have you heard anything?" Joey knitted his brow in concern, as he followed Monica into the kitchen.

"No," Monica shook her head, "nothing."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"We don't even know what to do anymore," Monica laughed bitterly, "My parents want to form some kind of committee to go out and look for her—but it's New York City! I mean, where do we begin?"

"Yeah," Joey sighed.

"Who are all those people?" Chandler walked into the kitchen, carrying Jack, who was looking bleary-eyed and grouchy.

"Sorry, they're with me—apparently," Joey stood as Chandler put Jack down in a kitchen chair, "Hey, man."

"Joey," Chandler smiled sadly, and the two friends hugged.

"I'm so sorry, man," Joey whispered, and the two pulled apart. Chandler nodded, and glanced at Monica, who was fussing over Jack.

"You know, maybe we can use those people," Joey looked toward the front of the house, "maybe we can use them to help get the word out about Erica."

"Maybe," Chandler nodded slowly.

"It's worth a shot," Monica added.

"I'll have my publicist come up with a press release. It'll be national news by the end of the day," Joey pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Wait—I mean, do we want it to be national news? Do we want people camped out on our lawn all night?" Chandler asked tentatively.

"We don't have any other choice, do we?" Monica snapped, "we have to do something."

Chandler retreated with a nod, and Joey glanced back and forth at the couple, his eyes revealing his concern.

"She's right Joe. Make the call," Chandler said softly, then left the room. Monica followed him, as Joey dialed his publicist.

…

"Chandler," Monica called, and he paused, but didn't turn to look at her, "I'm sorry, for snapping like that. I don't want people on our front lawn either, but—"

Chandler turned to look at her, looking defeated and exhausted.

"It's okay. You're right, we should do everything we can."

"Still—" Monica started, as she closed the gap between them, "I'm sorry."

Chandler nodded, and looked at his shoes, before sighing deeply.

"And about earlier—I didn't mean to…not reply…I just…I'm as lost as you are."

Chandler looked up, his eyes glassy and wide.

"We will get through this," Monica continued.

"Will we?" Chandler asked, his voice raspy and unsure.

"We have to," Monica replied, her own tears spilling from her eyes.

Chandler nodded, and pulled Monica to him, and let her cry.

But despite her words of comfort, something told him that nothing would ever be the same again.


	8. Follow the Yellow Brick Road

_Fallen_

_Eight: Follow the Yellow Brick Road_

The small, rectangular window was the only source of light in the tiny room.

It was too high for her to reach, and when the sun went down, the room became very dark.

She hated it when the sun went down. She was all alone, and she couldn't see anything around her.

She wished her mom and dad would come and get her.

The woman that lived in the other room was nice, but she never let her outside to play, and she only gave her oatmeal, which she'd never liked, not even when her mom made it.

She really missed her mom.

At first, she thought that she was going to get into trouble. She knew that her dad didn't want to go shopping anymore, and she thought he would come after her when the Oatmeal woman pulled her out onto the street.

But he never came, and then the woman made her get into a car.

And she knew her dad would never find her in the car.

The door to the tiny room opened, and the woman came in with a bowl of oatmeal.

At first, the woman tried to make her eat, but now she just put the bowl on the floor, and left the room. When the door was closed, she looked over at the oatmeal, and then up at the little window.

The sun was going down.

…

"Jack, honey, you have to go to sleep."

"No!"

"Sweetheart, it's late, and mommy is very tired. Please, Jack. Just close your eyes for a minute."

"No!"

"Jack!"

"I don't want to be here alone!"

"Honey, your dad and I are right next to you."

"It's too dark! Don't leave me here, Mommy!"

…

She had a dream that she was walking down the Yellow Brick Road from _The Wizard of Oz_. She was walking down the road, and she met a Scarecrow, but it wasn't the man from the movie. The man looked like her dad. He danced around and he made her laugh. Then they met Uncle Joey, who was dressed like the Tin Man, and Uncle Ross, who was dressed like the Cowardly Lion. They all walked on the Road together, until they met the Wicked Witch, who was really the Woman in the Next Room.

The sound of a car, parking by her window, woke her up.

She sat up, and looked up at the window. She could see two sets of legs walk past the window, and she could hear them walk up the steps of the porch. She listened for the woman.

The people outside knocked on the door, and she heard the woman walk toward it, and open it.

She thought that maybe the people at the door were her parents. Or maybe they were policemen. She wanted them to hear her, but they were talking to the woman. She wondered if they would hear her. She wondered if maybe she could go home now.

She screamed, as loud as she could.

…

"What was that?"

"Oh, it's my daughter. She's just trying to get attention. She's in a bit of trouble right now," the woman laughed, and the officers nodded with a chuckle.

"My kid does the same thing," one of the officers offered.

"Anyway, if you see anyone acting suspicious, please let us know," the other officer said, as the two men turned to leave.

"I will, thank you for the warning. I certainly hope you catch whoever it is that you are looking for."

"We will," the first officer turned and smiled, as the men walked toward the patrol car.

The woman closed and locked the front door, and stormed toward the girl's room. She threw open the door, and grabbed the girl by the hair, before pushing her hand over the girl's mouth.

"You are a very silly girl," the woman said darkly.

…

Her eyes flew open at the sound of the scream. Her heart raced and she sat up with a start.

It was only then that she realized that Chandler was halfway across the room.

She scrambled out of bed and rushed after him.

The scream was…terrifying.

Chandler reached him first, pulling Jack into his arms without hesitation, letting the child scream and cry and thrash in his arms, holding him tightly, until he calmed down.

"Shh, it's okay, son," he whispered, when his cries reduced to whimpers.

"It's not," Jack whispered, "she needs me."

Monica felt her stomach turn, and she dropped next to them on the bed. She looked up to see that Chandler had gone pale—his jaw dropped in shock.

"Wh-who are you talking about, Jack?" he finally rasped.

"Erica."

…

The woman was really mad—she tossed her across the room, and now her shoulder hurt. She heard a loud noise from the other room, and then there were men yelling. The woman grabbed her, and dragged her out of the room. The yelling men had guns. They were yelling at Oatmeal woman. She was yelling back. Everything was so crazy.

So she screamed, as loud as she could.

And then everything stopped.

AN: Sorry this is so short. Obviously most of this is Erica's POV. More will be explained in the next chapter.


	9. The Dreams That You Dare to Dream

_Fallen: Nine_

_The Dreams That You Dare To Dream_

All her life, all she had ever wanted, was a family.

She always considered herself to be a natural mother, a nurturer by nature.

As a child, she often played house—by herself, mostly—but in her imagination, she was always the perfect mother, to three perfect children, and a loving husband by her side.

After college, she was sure it would all come together—that once she found that perfect someone, she would live her happily ever after, in a perfect house, with her perfect family.

How had it all gone so horribly wrong?

How had she ended up here?

She stared blankly at the cold cement wall, her heart hurting and her eyes stinging from unshed tears.

Her perfect family had been torn apart—and at that moment, she had felt herself torn apart as well.

She had met her perfect husband, and though it had taken some time, they eventually had a beautiful little girl of their own.

Her name was Sarah, and she had perfect blonde curls and bright blue eyes.

She was only five years old, when she was taken away.

Since Sarah's death, she had been in a fog—steeped deep inside a darkness that she couldn't explain—couldn't control—couldn't escape.

She wasn't sure what made her do what she did—why she took that little girl.

She looked so much like Sarah.

She knew that she was wrong—she knew that she could hardly afford to take care of herself, much less a small child.

Kevin had walked away after Sarah's death. He'd been driving the car that night, and had never forgiven himself for his mistake.

Neither had she.

Their marriage fell apart. And she was left with nothing.

She wanted the little girl to help make her life better—but the girl was afraid of her, and always wanted her mother.

This was not the future she had envisioned for herself—this was not the life she had imagined.

This was not what dreams were made of.

…..

Joey looked up from the morning paper, as Chandler walked into the kitchen, yawning.

"Morning," Joey said.

"Morning," Chandler mumbled, as he poured a cup of coffee.

"Long night?"

"You could say that, yeah," Chandler sighed, and plopped down into a kitchen chair.

"I heard Jack. Is he okay?"

"I think so, yeah," Chandler sighed, "Sorry if he kept you up."

"Hey, you're the one that looks like hell, man," Joey said, "I mean that in the nicest way possible."

"Uh huh," Chandler eyed Joey then stared down at his coffee. He sighed and looked back up at Joey, tears in his eyes.

"Jack can see her," he stated, matter-of-factly.

"Erica?"

"Yeah," Chandler nodded, "in his dreams."

"Oh my God! Can he see where she is?"

"No…I don't think so," Chandler sighed.

"What are you gonna do? Are you gonna tell the cops about it?"

"About what?" Monica asked, as she entered the kitchen, looking just as exhausted as Chandler.

"Jack's dream," Chandler replied slowly.

"I thought we talked about this last night," Monica said tightly, "It was _just a dream_."

"I know but—"

"I don't want anyone else involved with this—it's bad enough you had to go and tell Joey!"

"He heard Jack last night!" Chandler argued, "What did you want me to do, _lie_?"

"Can we just drop it? None of this is gonna help us find her!"

"You guys," Joey said shakily, "Come on—"

"Maybe it will! I still think we should talk to Phoebe about it—she's a twin and she still claims she's psychic—" Chandler started.

"Oh give me a break! You never believed she was 'psychic' before!" Monica yelled.

"But she _is_ a twin!"

"You guys!" Joey's eyes widened, and his heart raced, the way it always had when Monica and Chandler fought in front of him—which wasn't often. But he hated it—he always had.

"What, Joey," Chandler snapped.

"This isn't gonna help anything! And all your yelling is gonna wake up Jack!"

Monica looked at Joey and nodded, then turned to glare at Chandler.

"Fine. Call Phoebe," she dared, then stormed from the kitchen.

Chandler sighed, and buried his head in his hands.

Joey felt his stomach turn, and pushed his coffee cup away from him.

…..

"Thanks for coming over, Pheebs," Chandler smiled and ushered his old friend into the house.

"I told you I would do anything to help," Phoebe smiled and hugged Chandler tightly after he closed the door.

"How are you guys holding up?"

"Not so well," Chandler said softly.

"She'll be okay," Phoebe said, "I can feel it."

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Um, do you want something to drink?"

"No, I'm okay. I ate lunch with Mike and the kids before the dropped me off. Mike figured you wouldn't want a bunch of kids running around making noise…" Phoebe laughed stiffly.

"They could have come over," Chandler led Phoebe into the living room. She paused in the doorway and let out a small gasp.

"What?" Chandler turned to look at her quizzically.

"You—you guys haven't um…" Phoebe gestured to the large Christmas tree and pile of gifts that sat untouched underneath it.

"Oh," Chandler looked down at his hands and shrugged, "We don't…really talk about it…but it's just kind of an unspoken agreement. We're waiting to do it when…" Chandler shrugged.

"When Erica gets back," Phoebe muttered, realizing that Christmas had likely come and gone without notice in the Bing home.

_Publicly_, at least.

"You said on the phone that Jack had had some dreams?" Phoebe moved into the living room, and sat down on the sofa.

"Yeah," Chandler nodded, clearly relieved by the change in subject, "I was thinking they might be more like visions though. Do you share…anything like that with Ursula?"

"Not anymore," Phoebe sighed, "But when we were kids, we always kind of—knew where the other one was."

"Really?" Chandler smiled slightly.

"Yeah. And this one time, the neighbor's dog bit Ursula, and before she had made a sound, I knew. I felt pain in my arm—and that's where the dog bit her."

"Wow," Chandler replied, "So do you think—"

"I think anything's possible," Phoebe smiled.

"Thanks Phoebe."

"For what?"

"For believing."

Phoebe smiled, and pulled Chandler into a deep hug.

"Hey Phoebe," Monica said quietly, as she entered the living room.

"Hey Mon," Phoebe pulled away from Chandler, and stood to hug Monica.

"Did Chandler talk to you about Jack?"

"Yeah. I was telling him about some things that happened with me and Ursula."

Monica nodded warily, and avoided Chandler's gaze.

"Maybe Jack can help," Phoebe shrugged.

"I don't want to pull him into this," Monica shook her head.

"He's already in it," Phoebe replied softly, "he knows, Monica."

The back door opened, and Joey walked in, Jack ambling behind him.

"Hey Chandler, I think you might have a little ball player on your hands," he smiled, and ruffled his nephew's hair.

"Oh yeah?" Chandler smiled, happy to have some of the tension broken.

"Daddy, is Ewica coming home today?" Jack asked, sending the room back into a tailspin.

Before Chandler could form a reply, the phone rang.

"I'll get it," Monica said, rushing into the kitchen.

Chandler approached Jack slowly, and struggled to keep his voice neutral.

"Son, we don't know—"

"Chandler!" Monica screamed, and Chandler darted into the kitchen, Phoebe and Joey close behind.

"What? What happened?" Chandler replied, his eyes filled with panic.

Monica looked up at her husband, shock lining her worn features. She was clutching the telephone receiver in her hand, and her face was flushed. After what seemed like hours, she spoke, her voice raspy.

"They found her."

…

She looked up, as the inspector walked into her cell, followed closely by a scrawny public defender.

"Mrs. Flynn, we understand you'd like to make a deal."

"Yes."

"The girl's parents are on their way to pick her up. Is there anything you'd like me to tell them?"

"Tell them…I'm sorry."


	10. God Only Knows

AN: Okay, I know, it took me forever to get to this. Here's the thing (in case you haven't looked at my profile recently). My affection for _Friends_ fics has waned, and as a result, these updates have been harder to write. I am going to try and finish what I've started, with all my unfinished work, but it will be slow in coming.

Fallen: Ten

_God Only Knows_

"They found her."

The words had been echoing in his head since the moment his wife had said them. They had flown from the house, leaving hasty instructions to Joey and Phoebe on what to feed Jack; they'd run past the media that continued to camp out on their lawn, jumped into their car, and sped toward the hospital.

It had all happened so fast, he hardly remembered doing it.

Monica screeched into the parking lot, stopping a mere centimeters in front of a tiny red Honda Accord. She was out of the car before Chandler could unbuckle his belt.

By the time he reached the hospital lobby, Monica had already inquired about their daughter, and was being directed to the third floor. He managed to catch up with her in time to hop into the elevator.

He said nothing as the elevator ascended toward pediatrics. He simply studied his wife's expression; worry, exhaustion, elation and fear all lined her face, making her seem much older all of the sudden. After a long moment, she turned to look up at him, her expression unchanged.

"What?" she asked, as the elevator slowed.

"I…I can't believe we're here, is all," he managed to stutter, as the doors slid open.

Monica nodded, but said nothing. She stepped out of the elevator and scanned the area.

"Mr. and Mrs. Bing?"

The couple turned to face a short, balding man, wearing a white medical jacket and a sympathetic expression.

"Is she okay?" Monica asked, in lieu of greeting.

"She's going to be fine. Her shoulder was dislocated, so she'll have to keep it in a sling for a while. She was dehydrated, and a little malnourished, but she's responding well, and has been asking for you," the doctor smiled.

"Can we see her?" Chandler asked softly.

"Down the hall to the left, room 314."

Monica was gone in a heartbeat; Chandler paused, and extended his hand.

"Thank you, Doctor…?"

"Morgan. Doctor Morgan."

"Thank you, so much," Chandler shook the doctor's hand, then dashed down the hall after his wife.

……

She knew that the nervous trembling, and the knot in her stomach, wouldn't abate until she had her daughter in her arms. Until she knew, without question, that Erica was safe.

She threw open the door to room 314, startling the nurse that was standing just on the other side, clipboard in hand.

"Mommy!"

There were moments in Monica's life that she would always treasure; the day she and Chandler were married; the day they met their children for the first time…the memories of these days, these moments, warmed her, and she cherished each.

But the moment she heard her daughter call for her…the moment she saw her, sitting up in her hospital bed, good arm extended toward her…that moment, was one that would dwarf all other.

Relief, joy, and a profound sadness washed over her, as she rushed toward her daughter, and enveloped her in her arms.

"Oh God," she whispered tearfully, "Oh thank God."

……

He couldn't help but notice how tiny his daughter looked, in the giant hospital bed.

He paused, as Monica ran toward Erica, knowing instinctively that he needed to hold back—to let Monica have her to herself, if only for a moment.

Perhaps it was due to the overwhelming guilt coursing through him; perhaps his demons could not be conquered with his daughter's return.

Shaking away his dark thoughts, he made his way into the room, as Monica reluctantly pulled away from Erica.

"Daddy!" Erica smiled brightly.

"Hey, Jellybean," Chandler managed, as tears threatened. Monica stepped back, and allowed Chandler to pull Erica into a warm embrace.

"I'm so sorry, sweetie," Chandler whispered softly, as he buried his face in his daughter's hair. He felt Monica place her hand on his back.

"It's okay, Daddy," Erica patted Chandler on the arm, "Don't cry."

"Okay," Chandler smiled, and kissed Erica on the forehead.

"Daddy's crying because he's happy," Monica said.

"When you're happy, you should smile, not cry, Daddy!" Erica scolded.

"Whatever you say, Jellybean," Chandler laughed.

……

"I wanna go home," Erica whined.

"Soon, honey, very soon. I'll bet you miss your brother, huh?" Monica smiled.

"And Bear," Erica nodded, and her parents laughed.

"And you know what, Uncle Joey flew all the way out here from California just to see you!" Monica said brightly.

"Uncle Joey is here?" Erica squealed happily.

Chandler caught Monica's eye, and they both smiled.

She was going to be just fine.

….….

Jack was waiting in the entryway, when Monica, Chandler and Erica walked in. They were barely through the front door, before the twins disappeared, giggling as they ambled up the stairs.

"I guess she didn't miss us _that_ much," Chandler laughed.

"I guess not," Monica shrugged.

"Jack has been sitting in that entryway for a half an hour at least," Phoebe laughed, and Joey silently nodded in agreement.

"Are you guys hungry? We called Ross and Rachel, they're on their way over…"

"Yeah, baby!" Joey boomed, and the others chuckled.

"I guess that means yes," Monica said, as the group headed toward the kitchen.

"I…I'm just gonna go check up on the kids," Chandler said suddenly, and paused in the doorway.

Monica turned as he disappeared from sight. She looked over at Joey and Phoebe, and smiled.

"Phoebe, why don't you call up Mike and we'll have everyone over. It'll be like old times," she said quickly, "I'll be right back."

She found him, leaned against the doorway of Erica's bedroom, watching the children play in the center of the room. She stood next to him, and placed her hand on his back.

"It's…like it's not real to me yet," Chandler whispered, "I just…had to come and make sure."

Monica looked up at her husband, and noted the shadows of worry still lining his face; the guilt and sorrow that still permeated his once-jovial features. She reached up, and ran her hand through his hair, causing him to turn and face her.

"I…I'm just so sorry I was so…I'm so sorry, Mon."

She sighed, and took his hands in hers. It was time to let her anger go. It was the only way they'd survive this.

"I don't blame you, Chandler," she whispered, and he looked up at her, doubt lining his face, "not anymore. It wasn't your fault…and there's no telling what would have happened had it been me, or even both of us there that day. It wasn't your fault," she repeated, with more conviction.

"I wouldn't…I don't know what would happen to me, if I didn't have you…and Jack and Erica. I don't know how I would live," Chandler sighed, and looked back at his children once more, "I don't think I could," he muttered sadly.

"Neither could I," Monica replied softly, and pulled her husband toward her. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead, before turning to return to the kitchen.

He stayed behind, and watched over their future.

_I may not always love you_

_But long as there are stars above you_

_You never need to doubt it_

_I'll make you so sure about it_

_God only knows what I'd be without you_

_If you should ever leave me_

_Though life would still go on believe me_

_The world could show nothing to me_

_So what good would living do me_

_God only knows what I'd be without you_

_God only knows what I'd be without you_

If you should ever leave me 

_Well life would still go on believe me_

_The world could show nothing to me_

_So what good would living do me_

_God only knows what I'd be without you_

_God only knows what I'd be without you_

_God only knows..._

_(God Only Knows, The Beach Boys)_

Epilogue? Maybe. Don't hold your breath though, lol.


End file.
